The Memories of Forgotten kisses
by Aimee Lafontaine
Summary: Life didn't really seem all that different, just that something was missing. Something important, something that caused her headaches and emptiness. It was like looking at the world through different eyes: blind eyes.
1. Is this a nightmare?

It was always this. Always the same. Clary settled into the usual repeat of the dream.

She was lying in a soft bed, in a plain room. The plaster walls were familiar, as was everything in this dream; from the knotted and twisted wooden beams on the ceiling that had small imperfections, to the musky mouth-watering scent that the room held.

As always, she sat up, her head spinning slightly, awoken by the sound of something crashing against a wall and shattering. Her feet felt heavy and her arm was in a sling.

She was wearing a pair of oversized pyjama's, her bare feet making no sound on the cool hardwood floor as she left the room and followed her ears toward the culprit of her awakening.

She trailed her fingers on the walls. She smiled at the lamps flickering playfully. Finally, she reached her goal. It seemed to be some sort of music with countless instruments inside, including a sleek grand piano. The door was open a crack. Inside, there were two people: a boy and a girl.

The girl was beautiful, a goddess really. An inky spill of jet-black hair whipped around her as she fought the boy. She yelled passionately at the boy, fisting another priceless-looking vase in her hands and reeling her arm back to throw it at him.

The boy though, he was much more beautiful than the girl yelling at him was. Her face might as well have been painted by an amateur artist to his perfectly refined and golden Michael Angelo face.

Looking at him made Clary slightly queasy. She came to the realization that she should be listening to what they were saying, or rather, arguing.

"You can't do this to her! I won't stand for it! It's her life. After all this time, you can still imagine that? Some things can't be smothered, Jace." The girl shouted. Clary wondered vaguely if they were talking about her.

"Isabelle-" The boy called Jace responded; ducking at the vase flung at him with perfect aim. The Isabelle girl interrupted him abruptly.

"No, Jace. Don't give me your excuses, she's not going to let you march off with her on your arm to- to-" Isabelle swallowed as her eyes became bloodshot. She threw another vase. Jace caught it.

"To what, Isabelle? I'm not going to force her to do it, but I think I can convince her." His voice was steely.

"Convince her? _Convince her?_" The words seemed to only further infuriate Isabelle. She turned around and found there were no more vases to throw at Jace. Her face was red with anger as she proceeded to walk over to him.

"She _loves_ you." Isabelle whispered the words, but they seemed to have more pent up emotion and meaning than everything else that she had said. The boys face went rigid and blank, unreadable. Still, Clary thought that she could she sorrow in his eyes.

When the boy didn't respond, Isabelle began to throw punches, tears leaving trails down her cheeks. Jace countered each of her attacks with ease.

"Please Isabelle, stop this. I don't want to hurt you." He said. Isabelle simply shook her head.

After a while, Jace groaned and grabbed both of her arms and threw them down. His eyes turned hard.

This was always Clary's least favourite part of the dream, when the boy came.

She felt frozen, like a deer in the headlights of a car. She wanted desperately to run, to escape the rest of the dream, but, as always, she was speechless and paralyzed.

Jace walked fluidly out the room, his jaw set. His eyes fell on her.

Clary just looked at him dumbly. She was so simply confused. She was afraid of the look in his eyes.

Usually, at this point in the dream Clary woke up here in tears. Not tonight.

"Come on, there's something I have to tell you." He said.

Clary didn't budge. She looked at him. She was filled with dread.

"I said, Come on!" Jace yelled. He grabbed Clary's arm and dragged her through hallways and corridors and up a spiral staircase. He had led her into some sort of greenhouse. It didn't seem very beautiful with Jace looking at her so darkly.


	2. How?

_Clary sighed. Rubbing her fingers continually to her temples, she gave up and placed her head against the cool tabletop. Her fiery hair pooled onto the table. _

_Jocelyn walked in, wrapped in a purple bathrobe and yawning slightly. She thoughtlessly wandered to the coffee machine and plugged it in. Coming to her senses, Jocelyn turned around and jumped at the sight of her daughter._

"_Clary," She exclaimed, "What are you doing up so early? It's a Saturday."_

_Clary sighed once more and lifted her forehead from the table. _

"_I had the nightmare again." She mumbled thoughtlessly. _

_Light flashed in Jocelyn's eyes violently before settling. Currently, Jocelyn's behaviour had confused Clary to the extremes. It seemed almost as if she was encouraging the painful dreams to come. For some reason, this caused Clary to become very angry and to try to will away the dreams even harder. With no luck, of course. _

"_Well, you should probably think it over and try to remember it. If you know what's coming, it won't seem so scary…" Jocelyn cleared her throat._

"_Mom!" Clary chastised, "I've had this dream frequently for the last three months- I think I know what's happening. But…tonight was different. I finished the entire dream-- At least I think I did. It just keeps getting stranger and stranger, mom. Every corner I turn in that dream I'm stumbling over some strange event. I really want the dreams to stop- and the headaches they ensue." Clary yawned._

_Jocelyn seemed slightly annoyed._

"_I'm sure if you think about it enough, you'll figure it out." Jocelyn said finally, rubbing Clary's back._

_Clary shook her head and wondered why everyone was acting so strangely._

_First, it had been Simon. He no longer wore his glasses and wore his bangs over his eyes, as if shielding something. He avoided her more and more, hanging out with a girl named Maia. And lately he had just blatantly refused to go to Pandemonium with her, claiming he had unsavoury connections with some individuals there. Clary hadn't thought that he would know anyone there, much less have unsavoury connections. _

_Luke too, had been a ghost and she barely saw him, though Jocelyn and Clary were currently residing in his small house. He seemed to be in a depression, and Jocelyn didn't seem to really notice. She found Luke was smiling less and less. Clary could barely remember how they were when they were close. _

_At least Jocelyn still looked _like Jocelyn, with Luke constantly looking like he needed a blood transfusion and Simon looking sickly pale and yet better looking than ever before Clary was beginning to have trouble discerning whom she knew. But then again, Jocelyn sometimes seemed like a completely different person than the mother she grew up to. Jocelyn had just been looking into empty space lately, as if she was remembering a distant memory; and the entire helicopter-parent aspect of her seemed to be doing some kind of disappearing act. Not that Jocelyn didn't care, but she had obviously lost all -or most- of the anxiety that once ruled her parenting. All of this was making Clary very apprehensive. 

Everything had become strange when they moved into Luke's place, Clary decided. 

They had moved to Luke's because the old building that was their old house had become unliveable because of some very bad rotting and the unexpected death of their downstairs tenant. At least that was how Jocelyn told it; Clary had some trouble remembering all the details…

Suddenly realizing Jocelyn was speaking, Clary looked up to see her mother looking at her expectantly for an answer. 

"Um…Sorry?" Clary forced the words out of her mouth. The world inside her head was so much more… simple. Jocelyn rolled her eyes and pushed her lips into the ghost of a smile.

"I asked what you were doing today." Jocelyn repeated. 

"Uh…" Clary quickly raced through her mental schedule, "I was going to sketch a bit, then I was going to hang out with Simon, work on algebra and… piously worship the laptop gods... Why?" Clary's thoughts raced.

"Oh, I was just wondering because I'm going out with Luke for the day." Jocelyn said tonelessly. 

Strange, thought Clary.

"I'll be pretty occupied, so don't worry about it." Clary murmured, the buzzing in her head making a come back.

"Okay…But if you decide to go somewhere call me, alright?" Clary nodded. Jocelyn sighed, poured the apparently finished coffee into a mug, and yawned again.

"Better go get changed so I can be on my way…" Jocelyn mumbled cradling the mug in her hands.

"What? You're leaving now. It's 6:30 am, mom. What will you are doing with Luke?" Clary was fairly shocked that anyone would do anything in the morning.

"Oh, nothing much. Don't worry honey; I'm much past my crazy years." Jocelyn responded as she left the room. Clary grinned slightly.

As Clary sat on the windowsill, sketchbook in hand, she wondered why she felt so sad all the time. There was nothing wrong with her life, nothing obviously missing or gone. Everything was perfectly normal. Maybe that was it. Perhaps she was hungering 

for something different, out of the norm. Clary couldn't think of anything that could really fill the space though. Or maybe it was the dreams. 

At that thought, Clary turned back to her sketchbook. She sighed and let her mind go blank; her hands started moving almost of their own accord. 

She didn't know why, but thinking about the dream always made her feel uncomfortable, like some scandal she was involved in. It just made her feel queasy. Probably the penetrating eyes of that boy. The way he seemed to know her so well and predict what she was going to say, how he had the ability to hurt her. 

Clary shook her head and chastised herself, she shouldn't have been letting such unimportant thoughts into her head. 

Finally, she opened her eyes, and was not surprised to see his observant eyes staring back at her. He had been the ghost haunting her sketchbook since the dreams had begun. Seeing his face still made Clary's heart give two involuntary tugs. 

Drrrrring!

The abrupt sound of Luke's doorbell caused Clary to jump. She realized quickly that time had passed faster than she thought and it was the early afternoon already, and that Simon had arrived. 

She hastily jumped to her feet, nearly tripping on the piles of paper on the floor and stumbled out of her room. 

Cringing slightly with the effort, Clary yanked Luke's stubborn door open. 

On the outside, Simon stood grinning.

"Glad to see that you haven't lost the ability to open doors, among the many other things, Fray." Simon greeted in his easy sarcasm as he glided through the doorway. 

"Please Simon, that door is long past 'might need replacing', and besides, I haven't 'lost' anything." Clary said as Simon flopped down on the worn couch. 

Clary heard Simon mumble something under his breath that sounded like, "I beg to differ," but Clary couldn't be sure, besides, that didn't make any sense. 

"So," Simon continued, "What did you do all day?"

"Just the usual of sketching and looking longingly into the sky," Clary responded, flopping down beside him; happy to settle back into their easy friendship. 

"Hey," Simon said after a short pause, "Would you show me some of your sketches? I mean, only if you want to." Simon added the ending after seeing Clary's blank stare. 

After a few seconds, Simon started to wave his hands in front of her face as if to see if she was still alive. "Clary?" He poked. Clary blinked and came to.

"I'm sorry Simon, of course you can, but-- it's just that no one ever really just openly asked me like that before." Clary sighed, hesitating a little before standing up and retrieving her sketchbook from her room. When she sat back down, she still seemed to be making up her mind whether or not to let Simon see her sketches. 

"It's okay, Clary. You really don't have to show me if you don't want to…" Told a Simon that didn't seem so sure of himself. 

"No, no," Clary scolded, "Just… don't laugh, alright?" Simon's grin returned. He lifted up his right hand.

"I do solemnly swear to you Clary Fray that I will not-" Simon shouted.

"Oh just shut up and look." Clary giggled as she shoved the sketchbook into his hands. 

"As you wish," Simon replied sarcastically. Clary shook her head and smiled. 

Simon immediately began flipping through the pages, gazing quickly on every sketch. 

"You're getting really good, Fray," He murmured as he continually flipped through the book. Suddenly, his hands stopped.

He was staring intently at the last sketch, the sketch she had drawn this morning. 

"And you're getting really good at drawing Jace…" Simon added under his breath. Clary's headache that had lessened to a dull ache suddenly exploded in her head, causing her to yell out in pain. She cringed and held her head in her hands. 

"Are you alright Clary?" Simon said in increasing alarm. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," Clary muttered after a couple seconds of dissipating pain. 

"Are you sure? Should I call your mom," A sudden realization flowed into Clary's mind, clear as day but unexplainable, "because if you-"

"How did you know his name was 'Jace'?" 


	3. Perspectives and Emotions

A/N: I'm really starting to hate the internet. Sorry about being a jerk and not finishing this up earlier. But you know I love you.

* * *

"What? I didn't say 'Jace'… I said… face." Stammered Simon confusedly. Clary could see right through him.

"I've known you my entire life Simon," Clary responded rising to her feet with her temper, "I think I know when you're lying. You said 'Jace'. Now, all I'm asking is a truthful answer, Simon. How did you kn-" She couldn't finish her sentence before her mind seemed to crumple in on itself.

Clary gasped desperately for air. Nothing seemed to find her lungs. It felt as though millions of punches were racking every inch of her body. Moving had quickly become too painful to imagine, and soon breathing would be deemed impossible.

_I'm going to die_, Clary realized abruptly.

In a corner of her mind, Clary realized someone was yelling at her, but she was already so occupied with fighting off the pain that was smothering her to care.

Simon was reaching panic at a very fast pace. He knew better than to mention his name, that it was too soon and a possible trigger such as this one could cause unknown parallels of destruction to Clary's conscious mind. He had known, and yet the name had slipped off his lips all too easily.

Simon tried to concentrate, to remember what Magnus had said to do in this situation or any situation like this one; but Clary's ear-splitting screams weren't really a good calmer. He'd tried everything he knew so far, shaking her shoulders… shaking her shoulders… yelling. But, nothing was working: Clary was unreachable. She had been in this condition for almost ten minutes and Simon was beginning to wonder whom to call the police or Magnus.

Simon weighed his options, if he called the police they wouldn't be able to do much since they knew nothing of conditions of this kind, but he couldn't call Magnus because he was out for the entire day or who knows how long dealing with another raid. Simon was getting desperate.

"What is going on here?" A shrill Jocelyn voiced behind him.

A somewhat fearful and relieved Simon turned around to face a ransacked looking Jocelyn and Luke staring wide-eyed at the scene playing out in front of them.

"Get Magnus!" Was all he could manage before Clary started another scream.

Jocelyn rushed over.

"What's going on," Jocelyn said as she picked up Clary and placed her on the couch, then eying the sketchbook stopped on the page of Jace's face quickly realized the dilemma, "You didn't- no- Simon, you didn't say his name, did you?"

Simon looked down.

At that point, Magnus proceeded to enter the room in a neon glittering blue hoodie and matching golden pants. When he saw the situation, he smiled naughtily and gestured with his chin for someone else to follow.

"Now darlings, it does look like we have quite the dilemma, don't we?" He said as he approached Clary's small form. A dark form followed him in.

"Is she going to be alright? Is her mind dead? Oh god, did I make her go brain dead?" Simon stuttered as Magnus made his way across the room. Magnus stopped abruptly.

"Quiet you pale mosquito, I haven't even touched her yet." He leered, causing Simon to close his mouth and stare worriedly at Clary.

After an eternity of walking, Magnus made it across the room and placed his hands on either side of Clary's head. The blue sparks started.

In Clary's conscious mind, she felt the pain numbing. Not subsiding, but numbing enough to ignore but not forget.

"Clary," She heard an unfamiliar and yet, familiar voice say, "Open your eyes."

Clary creased her brow and shook her head, enjoying the sweet merit of oxygenized blood. Moreover, she wasn't sure that she wanted to face reality.

"Oh god, she's lost all her memories now, hasn't she? And it's all my fault-" She heard a nervous Simon chatter. She opened up her eyes.

"Shut up, Simon." She snapped. A strange man sat in front of her. He smiled.

"Good morning, biscuit, would you like some tea?" He winked at her.

"Who are you?" A clearly panicking Clary stammered, and then recognized her mom among the crowd, "Mom, who are these people?" Her mother broke her gaze.

"Really Ma-"Jocelyn started.

"_Ah-ah-ah_," The man chided, "Jocelyn, she's quite ready now. Don't you suppose that it's been long enough?" He paused here and began before Jocelyn could protest, "Now let's see if my theory's correct," He sounded almost giddy. He gestured at a dark boy to come near. He turned back to Clary.

"Now Clary, you know who we are. Very specifically, we were all very close for a little while. So, Clary, what I want you to do is just go back inside that pretty little red-head of yours and simply try to remember our names. Simple, isn't it?" He smiled encouragingly. Clary shook her head.

"You're craz-" She started to say, but was decapitated by the overwhelming pain.

Again, Magnus repeated the dulling magic. Clary opened her eyes again.

"Clary, you want the pain to stop?" Clary nodded, "Then do as I say if that's what you really want. Now close your eyes." The last sentence seemed a commandment. However, at this point Clary would do anything for the pain to stop.

Clary obediently closed her eyes and wanted the pain to stop, that desire fuelling the need to know their names. Clary genuinely thought they were crazy.

Closing her eyes was like diving into a deep and cold alien pool. Strong currents threw her in every direction, daring her to breath the poisonous knowledge. There in the deep grotto of her conscious mind, Clary tried to clutch at nothing at and spiralled into eternal darkness. Helpless, she swallowed the knowledge. It came to her then, like something resurfacing over water.

Clary opened her eyes.

"Magnus and… Alec."

Oek kicked Jace awake with her hard metal-soled boots again, like everyday.

"Wake up lazy-bones; we need to go round up some more."

"When don't we?" Jace muttered between painful coughs.

"Get up, before he thinks I'm going easy on you." She urged, her quicksilver eyes piercing him.

Today Oek's shock of hair was twisted and pulled into a tight French-braid. Jace wondered how he could have ever thought that he hated her. At least, that was how it was when he first met her.

Oek was a Sprite. She was half-human-half-fey. She was possibly the strangest thing someone would ever see. She had silver flesh that matched her enormous quicksilver eyes and sharp and almost unattractive facial features. Her hair was a shocking white that could burn your eyes and a personality as cruel as her visage. Jace was her prisoner.

Not that Jace could care very much.

The first time he had met Oek, it hadn't been under happy circumstances.

The sky picked at Jace's eyes uncomfortably as he squinted at the ruby sunset.

"So nice to see you, Jace." Came the throaty voice from behind him. Jace didn't bother turning; he didn't want to see the smug look on Fenmore's face.

"I did it." Jace responded with finality.

"I knew you would." You could hear the smile in Fenmore's voice.

"I'm leaving now." Jace sighed. He started walking.

"We can't have that." It was a statement of fact. The words held a threat too. Jace knew this was the point where he would have to run.

Jace had known the danger of going there, but he hadn't been stupid enough not to believe Fenmore wouldn't go through with his threat.

Before Jace could even break into a run hundreds of hands grabbed at him and stopped him. Jace blinked, he could have sworn that those people hadn't been there before. They turned him to face Fenmore.

Fenmore didn't look like an evil mastermind. In fact, he looked the picture of the average mundane. He had brown hair and plain brown eyes, was of average build and height. He was the opposite of abnormal. But as Jace had quickly come to realize, it was very dangerous to judge someone by outer appearances.

Jace counted the Downworlders and Shadowhunter alike that restrained him. Jace might have been of angelic decent, but he knew when he was outnumbered.

"You said you would let me go." Jace was dangerously near pleading.

"After you helped me. Jace, now you couldn't have thought that you were anywhere _near_ finished helping me, could you? I mean you've barely done anything," Fenmore smiled, knowing that everything was going precisely to plan. "And I think we all know where your loyalties lie. We couldn't have you going back to them and ruining everything, could we? No. Besides, you are a very useful asset to our growing empire," Fenmore opened his arms, gesturing to the growing crowd of slightly anxious and agitated Shadowhunter and Downworlders behind him. "But, we all know that you won't join willingly," Fenmore paused in mock contemplation and smiled. "Jace, I have someone I want you to meet."

Fenmore looked over his shoulder and sighed someone's name. A silver-skinned girl made her way through the now split crowd.

The way she walked said danger. Her absolute confidence, the way she surely put one foot in front of the other, the way that she was weaponless except for a single long-bladed knife, her penetrating gaze… Everything about this girl seeped venom and danger. She was strangely wearing the black Shadowhunter gear. She stared intently at Jace. If, at any time Jace had felt vulnerable, it was now.

"Jace," Fenmore continued, smiling confidently, "I'd like to introduce you to Oek. She's a Sprite: a half-human-half-fey. But, Oek, why don't you tell him what you really are?" Oek didn't turn her head to acknowledge the question.

"A crime against nature." She spat out in her shrill voice.

"Very good, Oek," Fenmore cooed, "You and her will have that in common," Fenmore said, directing his attention back at Jace. "Jace, Oek is going to teach you some obedience." Fenmore paused again to smile happily. Then he gestured to a Shadowhunter sifting foot to foot with his chin.

"Rune him."

Jace knew that this was the point of no return. If he didn't escape now he never would.

He jumped…And slammed into an invisible wall.

Fenmore wasn't stupid, he had known that all chances pointed to Jace attempting escape, so, as soon as Jace had entered the near area a warlock had created an impenetrable force field.

Jace was, -in every sense of the word- trapped.

A dark-skinned, greasy male Shadowhunter approached him, steele in hand. Jace struggled against his captors, striking out in every direction; but failing miserably. Oek joined the Shadowhunter as he burned the symbols into Jace's skin.

Jace tried to see the rune that was burning his arm as the Shadowhunter and Downworlders blocked his line of vision. At last, there was a break in the hustle and Jace's keen eyes picked up a rune he knew by heart. Alliance.

It couldn't possibly be that bad if they were simply connecting him with a Downworlder. The Shadowhunter with the steele turned to Oek. Probably drawing Alliance on her too, Jace thought. But Jace felt no connection like he should have.

The people holding him abruptly dissipated. Jace wondered briefly why, before he decided what to do.

He spat at Fenmore. Jace broke into a run. He hoped he could find a break in the force field. Or at least use his steele for something.

Into the first couple steps of his run, all his muscles locked. Jace was paralysed.

"Oek, make him come back here." Fenmore chortled excitedly. Immediately, Jace's body responded, he walked back without any will or control. Jace had begun to panic.

"What have you done to me?" Jace rasped, his breathing becoming harder. This only caused Fenmore to laugh harder.

Jace could barely see, the last of the days light hastily relinquishing into the night. Then his eyes caught a glimpse of the rune on Oek's arm. It looked like Alliance, but it was different. Jace suddenly came to the realization that it was Alliance combined with something else. Jace squinted, and felt all his hopes die. It was a very strong rune: Control.

"I've done to you like I've done to all that oppose. Welcome to my army, Jace Herondale." Fenmore cackled.

Oek was in complete and utter control of Jace.

Oek herself smiled blatantly at Jace, showing sharp canines. She sauntered over to him.

"Jace, I am in control. There is nothing you can do to stop me, ever," She sneered at him, "Until either of us dies, you are mine. So," Oek stopped, licking her lips. Suddenly her pupils dilated. "Let's learn some rules, and, my favourite part- punishments." Jace still couldn't move.

She lifted her hand and Jace realized that she was wearing rings. She backhanded him violently.

Jace felt his nose pop, his lip tear and deep cuts burn his face. But it didn't make sense, she hadn't hit him that hard. His knees came out from under him. Her smile grew.

"You are mine. Only I choose if you live or not. If I simply think the thought, your heart will stop. But if I do decide you should die, I won't be so kind as to give you a fast death. If you so much as think something I don't like, I can incapacitate you with pain beyond your imaginings." She licked her lips, " Before I give a demonstration, I'll explain something. You noticed there, that the force I struck you with was not nearly enough to break your nose. Your nose broke simply because I wanted it to. You think you are beautiful? I have scarred you to change that. You are mine. I am going to take everything you love from you. Once you are stripped of that, you are nothing. Then, you will come to terms with what you really are."

"Now, to demonstrations," She simply narrowed her eyes slightly, before Jace felt like his insides were being pulled out.

Jace was filled with a sudden and obsolete hate of her and Fenmore. He imagined taking her head off with one of his seraph blades. Abruptly, everything stopped.

"You didn't quite heed my warning, did you?" She said, amused. Suddenly, Jace's skin felt like it was on fire, he screamed in agony. She laughed. "Now beg for my mercy or I'll cut off your breathing. You've got ten seconds."

The pain dulled slightly enough for Jace to say something.

"You'll never win. Valentine and his beliefs are dead." Jace rasped before the agony returned. Oek smirked, the sides of Fenmore's mouth tugged upwards. Fenmore squatted down so he was eye-level with Jace.

Fenmore smiled scarily as he said, "Jace, as you'll soon find out; just because something dies doesn't mean it's dead," He stood up and turned to Oek. "Teach him."

Since then, Jace had been in an eternal state of torture. Oh, he had been taught. He had felt all the hope of escaping, of simply living again just drain out of him like blood in a horrific torture scene. Jace had lost all will to live.

Now he could barely move without Oek willing it. His thoughts weren't even his anymore. Jace didn't even hate Oek any longer. Half of it was that he was too exhausted to try to hate anyone; another half was that he found that the one's in control of the rune had to have experienced the pain they exerted on others: Oek had been through everything he was being put through. Hate had quickly turned to pity.

An extreme pain severed Jace's train of thoughts.

"Stop wasting time. Come on." Oek chastised.

Ever since the first day that Jace had been captured he and Oek had been raiding nests of all kinds of Downworlders. Jace felt unfathomable guilt every time they captured a pack of werewolves, or a nest of vampires, or a group of fey and he saw their young, their old and their strongest be left powerless under Fenmore's magic.

Jace was only allowed to use himself in this way. Everyday, he would herd the Downworlders into a warehouse. He had no idea what happened to them after he left them there, but they were always gone by the next morning. He could only imagine something similar to his position.

Jace started to walk. If they finished early, they could return to their dingy quarters in another warehouse and Jace could talk to Oek.

Soon they reached a portal cast by a angry-looking warlock with pale blue skin. The warlock tapped his foot anxiously and sneered at them.

"_You're_ late." He seethed.

"What do you care? Let's just do this." Oek snapped. The tone of her voice stopped the warlock from responding. Jace allowed himself to grin a little. They walked through the portal.

They were clearly in Idris. Jace couldn't be mistaken. He shifted back to numb ignorance. They walked briskly into a forest. The thick over growth was unnerving, but Oek walked in a pace as if she knew exactly where they were going. Jace hoped she did.

At last, they came to a break in the woods. The light shone through vibrantly here, causing Jace to squint at the sudden light change.

As Jace's eyes adjusted, he realized that they were standing in the middle of an enormous pack of werewolves. This was larger than any other raid he had done. The warlock raised his hands and began his part. Oek spoke up.

"This warlock is casting a force-field that will kill anyone who leaves it." A loud murmur jostled the crowd.

Some women voiced their disbelief, another, in an act of desperation clutched her newborns head and ran towards the woods. Oek made no move to stop them. There had to be proof, examples for everyone to understand the seriousness of the situation.

Just before the woman hit the tree line, she fell over, as if hit by an invisible wall. She and her newborn were dead before they hit the ground.

Jace winced, for some reason this situation reminded him of Clary.

"If you try to kill us, the force field will slowly get smaller and suffocate you." Oek continued."You are now given a choice: Join Fenmore or end up like _her_."

No one responded. Oek didn't smile like usual.

Jace started to walk without his own volition. Soon, he was at the back of the crowd, herding them forward. They walked slowly, hoping for a sudden escaping possibility. It never came.

The warlock called up another portal. Within minutes, everyone was gone. Jace turned around suddenly.

There was no one left. Why had he felt like someone had been watching him? He scanned the area again. There was no one there. He turned and tried to shake the feeling of eyes on his back.

This reminded him of unhappy memories. Oek smiled him her snake smile. Jace could tell she wasn't really happy, or pleased. He didn't know why she was smiling.

He stepped through the portal.

Clary sifted uncomfortably in an arm chair. She nervously pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and bit her lip. Turning, she craned her neck to see what was going in the kitchen behind her.

Jocelyn seemed to be yelling at Magnus, while Magnus ignored her diligently and hummed to himself while he made a teapot. Finally, Jocelyn gave up and sighed and entered the livingroom where Clary was. Magnus followed her shortly with delicate teacups. He placed one on the vintage coffee table in front of Jocelyn.

"You're just jealous because I was right." He said.

He placed one in front of Alec, Luke then Simon.

"The High Warlock of Brooklyn uses _teacups_?" Simon grumbled.

Magnus grabbed a Vogue magazine and slapped Simon across the back of his head.

"I'll have you know, _Cain_, that these teacups are older then your grandparents! Have some respect for your elders!" Magnus chided. Alec smiled, recovering by hiding it with his teacup as he leaned back and crossed his legs.

Simon shook his head and mumbled something about not having grandparents.

Concluding, Magnus placed a teacup in front of Clary.

"So poppet," Magnus sighed, settling into a chair beside her, "I understand that you used to go to Pandemonium with Simon here quite often in the past." Clary nodded. "Do you remember that one time you thought that you saw men with knives there?" Clary looked a bit torn, but she nodded again. "Can you recount that night to me?"

"Why?" Clary blurted.

"Humour me." Magnus sighed.

"I can't remember it very well…" Clary whined

"Just try. Unless you want the pain to come back…" Magnus replied lazily.

"Well… It was a Sunday night and Simon and I had gone to the Pandemonium. Then I saw two guys follow a couple into the back room. I got worried because-"

"Can you describe them to me?" Magnus interrupted. Clary swallowed, suddenly nervous.

"Well one was dark -like the girl in the couple- and the other was blond." Clary mumbled. Then her eyes fell on Alec.

Her pupils dilated and she fell back into her chair. It was like the time earlier, but different. This time there was no screaming, no indescribably agonizing pain, no need to escape. No, this was like choosing to swim out far into the ocean. The floodgates opened.

Clary's eyes were still open, but she wasn't aware of what was going outside of her mind. It was chaos around her, with Magnus trying to control it. The fact that Clary wasn't breathing wasn't helping.

As quickly as it began it ended. Clary almost felt sad it was over. Sadder that it had happened.

She realized what was going on in front of her for a moment. Then she broke into tears. Everything was easier when you didn't remember it.

* * *

A/N: Tada! Did you like it? It was chapter longer than what I'm used to writing. I liked writing this chapter, there were a lot of cookies. Next one's prolly gonna be a transition chapter, which are not fun. It'll hopefully be out soon. No promises in case I break them. Are you happy Jace is back?


	4. Another Moment, Please?

A/N:Hey my crazy readers! I know, I'm a total jerk for not updating sooner, seeing as it's summer and all. But, I have been pretty busy being lazy and traveling; I'd tell you about it, but it's completely irrelevant to the story. Anyway, this chappy was inspired by a lot because I wrote it all summer. Moving on, it's kinda a transition chapter and I had to get a lot of info in without taking all the mysteriousness away...

This chapter is supa-long (exactly 2630 words actually) and I was planning on making it longer but decided I'd make it a bit of a cliffy with some unanswered questions to make sure that you read the next chapter. It's not a very dramatic cliffy mind you, more of a ledge you could accidentally trip over if you weren't paying attention, but still, a cliffy-ish.

This chapter I listened to a lot of music that I would like to recommend, because I really like recommending things...

Basically, I listened to everything by "My Terrible Friend", which is an indie band you can only find on Itunes or Youtube, which I think are highly talented and funny.

Talk to you some more at the end...

* * *

For a moment, everyone stopped yelling at each other and just stared. Except for Magnus.

Magnus beamed widely. Jocelyn thought it strange seeing as Clary was bawling her eyes out.

Magnus approached her. He put one hand on her back and patted reassuringly.

"Tut-tut now, precious." He said picking up her teacup with his other hand, "Drink some of this, it'll make you feel better." Wearily, Clary wiped her tears away on her sleeve and held her breath long enough to take a sip of tea. She felt stupid and embarrassed.

"Now, Clary I want you to take a deep breath and tell me everything you remember."

"Why?" Her voice cracked.

"I need to know just how much you remember, much more how much I'll have to fill you in." Magnus said, examining his fingernails. Clary sighed and nodded.

"I remember when we were still in Idris after what we thought was the final revolt…I remember the deaths, the messages, the raids…Nothing's really detailed… Except my last one." Magnus nodded.

"But how is that possible? One moment- No not even; A _mention _of something and she remembers it all?" Questioned Alec. He seemed almost angry. Magnus turned around.

"No, I don't believe that she remembers everything. I still think she's hiding something from herself. Some_one _specifically." Magnus hushed.

"So you're saying that she doesn't remember Jace?" Simon exclaimed a bit too loudly.

"I remember Jace," Clary responded in frustration, "And stop talking about me if I'm not here!" Jocelyn stared intently at Clary. Magnus ignored her and continued whispering to the remainder of the group.

"No. Not that she doesn't remember him. Just… How should I explain this?" Magnus mumbled to himself for a minute, "You know when you have a dream and you make up a bunch of characters?" Everyone nodded in understanding. "Well I believe it's somewhat like when you wake up after a dream and you'll remember the fantastic adventure you went on and all the characters, but you don't really remember, or feel anything towards these characters like you did in the dream. Understand? In this case, I believe Clary doesn't _want _to remember how she loved Jace; he's like some begotten character that she doesn't really remember. That's why she doesn't remember the details: she doesn't _want _to remember. Also, I don't believe she knows just how she came to be so incoherent and forgetful. This must be an extremely confusing situation for her." Jocelyn's eyes flicked off Clary.

"So what you're saying is that she doesn't _want _to know, therefore she doesn't?" Luke interpreted.

"Correct." Magnus replied.

"Then why was she crying?" Jocelyn reprimanded.

"Why don't we ask her? I'm sure she has as many questions as we do." Magnus chattered.

They all turned around to see Clary sitting and staring confusedly at her wrist.

"Clary?" Simon prodded.

"Yes, Simon?" She snapped as her head jerked upward.

"Are you alright?" He mumbled warily.

"Yeah I'm fine." She said curtly, feeling more and more like a cornered animal.

"Okay…" Simon responded, sounding resigned.

"So Clary," Magnus announced, rubbing his hands together, "Why were you just crying?"

"Well I… I… I don't know. I guess I was overwhelmed with all the memories or something." Blurted Clary.

"Something indeed." Magnus agreed. "What did Jace mean to you?"

"Nothing." She said the words quickly and smoothly.

"So you weren't in love with him?" Magnus pushed.

"No. Now that I look back at everything, I realize that I just _wanted _to love and be loved. So I convinced myself I did love him- I was in love with the idea of love. Now I know better. I was devastated when I was rejected and that irrationality is what put us here." It was as if she was reading something off a page.

"So it seems, so it seems," Continued Magnus, "Do you know how you… for lack of a better word- hid your memories?"

"Ummm…" Hesitated Clary.

"She has no idea." Answered Luke. Everyone turned toward him momentarily.

"What," Luke said with a rare smile, "I know when the girl's pulling a blank."

Magnus turned around. "Apparently."

Suddenly Simon stood up. "This is so stupid." He muttered as he stormed out of the room.

"What's wrong with him? Did I say something?" Gasped Clary in confusion.

"I would guess that he's angry because he's in love with you." Replied Jocelyn idly.

"I don't understand…" Clary stared absently at her hands.

"Then let me elaborate," Alec volunteered, sounding slightly hateful. "All this time he gave up on you because he thought you were happier with Jace; that you were in love with him. Now suddenly, you never loved Jace in the first place and Simon's left a little confused and broken-hearted. We all are."

Clary inhaled sharply.

"Now, Alec, no need to be so blunt about it." Magnus chided.

"Yes. There is." Alec's jaw was set.

"Alec-" Magnus began.

"Why are you defending _her _Magnus? _She's_ the one who ran away from all her problems while we dealt with Fenmore. _She's_ the one that's wrong!" Alec shouted. He stood up for a moment before exiting in the same fashion as Simon.

Magnus sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face. He stared down at his untouched tea in the eerie silence before leaving into the kitchen muttering something about, "needing something stronger".

In the middle of pouring himself an unhealthily tall glass of scotch, Magnus turned around abruptly.

"Luke." He said shattering the awkward silence.

"Yes?" Luke responded.

"I suggest you catch Clary." Magnus replied while returning to his scotch.

"Why?" Luke asked. Jocelyn gave Magnus a peculiar look.

"Because, Luke," Magnus said with raised eyebrows like it was the most obvious question ever, "She's about to faint."

Just as the words came out of his mouth, Clary's eyes rolled back into her head and she toppled forward.

As quickly as she fell, Luke ran and caught her.

Magnus returned into the living room then. He easily gulped down half of the glass of scotch like it was orange juice and looked at Luke holding an unconscious Clary.

"Good catch, doggie," He spoke with sarcasm dripping from his voice, "Now be a good boy and put the nice lady in my room."

Luke narrowed his eyes in annoyance and carried Clary into Magnus' room.

It was the day after the festival.

The sun didn't seem too harsh as it glorified the room in pools of gold. Clary thought that at that moment, everything was perfect. A perfection that nothing could taint.

She was lying in bed, beside Jace. It was poetic justice what had happened these last months; it was like Clary had finally started living.

Jace was still asleep. It was fascinating to Clary to see Jace sleep. He had a certain vulnerability that he never showed while awake, except to Clary. In rare and beautiful moments such as this, Clary liked to take a mental picture and stow it away in her mind for future reference.

Clary tried to memorize every detail. The way his hair curled in every direction and yet sat perfectly on his head, the soft curves of his lips, the shape of his liquid gold eyes…everything.

Clary was suddenly aware of a ticking noise. She sat up and stared at the clock in Amatis' guestroom for five whole minutes before she realized what time it was.

"Shoot." She muttered under her breath. Looking at Jace's peaceful form, Clary couldn't bring herself to waking him up- yet. Standing up, she softly let go of his hand and walked toward the trunk at the foot of the bed.

She was wearing large flannel pyjama's of Amatis'. Clary hoped that her clothes were cleaned somewhere. Strangely, they were.

Grabbing the meagre amount of clothing she owned, she quietly exited the room and entered Amatis' comfortable bathroom.

She silently dressed, brushed her teeth and chased knots out of her hair with a comb. Clary didn't wince at the mirror when she spied the dark bags beneath her eyes. Staying up had been worth it… That thought brought a sly grin to Clary's face.

I should probably go wake up Jace, she thought. However, the blatant protests of her stomach convinced her to have just a small snack.

Clary slipped down the stairs as quietly as she thought humanly possible and wondered quietly why no one was home.

Clary fished through the refrigerator and decided almost immediately that cereal was the best option. Extracting the milk from the fridge, she placed it on the table nearby and gasped.

"Well, good morning to you too." Magnus giggled. Really Giggled.

"Sorry Magnus…Why are you here?" Clary rebounded,

"Well aren't we on our best behaviour today?" He chided, sounding utterly pleased.

"Why isn't anyone home?" Clary ignored his question, rolling her eyes.

"Rome wasn't built in a day, pumpkin. You can't expect that everything's better and all the politics are worked out because you deflated the macho-man." Magnus explained matter-of-factly.

"But-" Clary started to say.

"Oh, no, no, no, Clary. Getting rid of our very unloving Valentine -do you think that's a play on words?- is going to seem easy compared to all the negotiations and consensuses were rerouting. You understand?" Magnus lectured.

"Magnus, I really don't appreciate it when you act like I was born yesterday." Clary replied sarcastically.

"Compared to me," Magnus said, "you were."

"Why'd you come here, Magnus? I'm sure you didn't come here to waste your time lecturing me." Clary sighed, slightly exasperated.

"On the contrary," Magnus countered, "That's exactly what I came here to do."

"Well," Clary sighed, grabbing the cereal from the cupboard, "if that is your mission; why don't I go wake up Jace? If he hasn't already been awakened by your shenanigans."

"Shenanigans?" Magnus repeated, sounding slightly offended, " I wouldn't call them that. And besides, I can assure you Jace won't be waking up anytime soon; I've made sure of that."

Clary stared at him for a moment.

"You did something to Jace." She replied with finality,

"Yup." Was all Magnus had to say.

"Why?" Clary's voice was becoming curt.

"That's the unequivocal reason I came here." Magnus paused.

"And?" Clary replied rudely. Magnus gave her a stern look as if to tell her to watch her tone.

"To be blunt; as you now know, you and Jace are both 'Angel children' for lack of better words," Magnus continued, "And therefore, you have abilities that are unimaginable to the other Nephilim, and the Clave is obviously interested. Now your boy-toy upstairs clearly doesn't want you to have any contact with the Clave because he has anxiety issues. It's my job to take you to the Clave, monitor your interrogation and return you here before he wakes up." Magnus smiled.

"Oh." Clary said, blinking. "How long until Jace wakes up?"

"Probably another two-and-a-half hours." Magnus said proudly.

"Probably?" Clary questioned.

"Well, I don't know how my potion works on 'angel children'. He could be out for the rest of the day, or, he could wake up in the next five minutes. Either way, time is of the essence." Magnus replied matter-of-factly.

"Then we'd better leave now." Clary finished.

"I knew you'd agree." Magnus grinned. He trotted through the house and opened the front door for Clary. Clary rolled her eyes at him as she exited.

"…So you only recently discovered your real parentage?" Continued a pleasant-looking brown-haired female Shadowhunter.

"Yes." Clary answered, glancing at Magnus who was standing in the corner of the room examining his nails.

"Well that's about it. Thanks for cooperating." The woman said.

"Great." Clary sighed in relief, she'd been in the claustrophobic room for about an hour and was definitely ready to leave.

Magnus' head flipped up and he blinked as if he'd just woken up. Clary ignored him vigilantly, and exited the room.

"Jace? Wake up Jace." Heard a voice he could place immediately as it interrupted the dreams in the recesses in his mind, or at least this was how Clary pictured it, really she was just shaking an unconscious Jace and softly shouting at him. After a moment of trying, she turned a fearful eye to Magnus.

"Clary, who are you looking at?" A suddenly conscious Jace said with playful eyes, his curls playing off his head in a bed-head fashion. Clary didn't have to fake a relieved smile. Magnus was gone.

"No one." Clary replied, fingering a rebel lock of hair on his forehead. She bent down and took his lower lip in hers. His arms wrapped around her.

When they released, she sat up and a smile spread across her face like sunlight.

"What was that for?" Jace interrogated curiously.

"Nothing." Clary sighed.

"If that was 'nothing' then I want a lot of 'nothing' in the future." Laughed Jace, "Wait-" He sat up, "What time is it?"

That wasn't an unexpected question. "Sometime around one." Clary responded. Jace's eyes widened.

" One!," He blinked, seemingly appalled, "I've never slept in that long. Is something wrong?"

For a moment, Clary just stared at him, fascinated; then smiled and shook her head slowly. "No Jace," She said, leaning back down, " Everything's perfect."

The last of the sunlight drifted down from the sun, a ripened peach hanging low, ready for picking. Clary had never seen the sun like that. Then again, she hadn't seen a lot before the last couple months.

Fingers intertwined, Jace and Clary were walking down the streets of Alicante. Although the parade had been the night before, everyone was obviously still celebrating; the mood was in the air.

There was a small group of people in the square in a circle. This raised Jace's eyebrows; it wasn't unusual to see a group of people in Alicante (there were always people about) but the atmosphere of the party wasn't positive, in fact, it leaked anxiety.

Wordlessly, Jace and Clary changed direction and pushed their way through the crowd. What was in the center rattled Clary's bones.

It was a man, easily identified as Shadowhunter by excessive use of runes, but he was dead. By just looking at him, you couldn't tell he was dead, thought Clary. If you had just seen a picture of him, lying there you couldn't tell he was dead, you'd think he was just asleep on the street. No, just looking at him didn't tell you he was dead; but something about this man was wrong. Maybe it was the look on his face, a mask of unresponsiveness. Or maybe the way his body was painfully and eerily still… A thought flashed through her head.

Clary turned her face away, strangely disgusted.

"Who is he?" Murmured Clary. Jace didn't seem to know the answer and after asking around didn't seem to know much more.

"Nobody knows." Jace responded with finality.

"Let's get out of here." Clary said, feeling slightly claustrophobic.

They marched out of the crowd quickly and saw members of the Clave entering the Square from the other end. Jace hastily pulled her into an empty alleyway and questioned her,

"What do you know?" His eyes alight with curiosity.

"How did you know I knew something?" Clary almost laughed.

"Your eyes lit up just like when you showed me how you thought your mother had hid the cup." Jace replied excitedly, "So, what do you know?" Clary smiled a little.

"I recognize him from somewhere… I don't know where, but it was fairly recently…" She struggled to concentrate on the thought.

"Strange… Could it be he was someone in your mundane life?" Jace asked, more and more interested and worried in the prospect of a mystery.

"I don't think so, I would have remembered him right away. No, this was someone definitely from my new life." Clary explained. "C'mon, let's go find Isabelle-and-troop."

* * *

A/N: Curious? Yes, she is beginning to recall certain important highlighted events. I'm only writing down the important stuff so you better pay attention for the pop-quiz coming up...

More memories and (exciting moment) plot next chapter. Anyway, I'd like to thank everyone for story/author alerting me and reviewing me with all the positive criticism. I really appreciate it.

Yeah, I' getting pretty excited about this story now so I hope to put in a new chapter soon with some action and more filling-in tidbits.

In conclusion, I wrote a small interview with Oek because she's a character I think deserves more attention. Here goes nothing:

* * *

_Aimee: So, Oek, who were your parents?_

_Oek: My father was fey knight, Dain and my mother was mundane librarian, Roslyn. _

_Aimee: How was your childhood?_

_Oek: I grew up as one of the fey in a light, blissful childhood. I was never fully accepted into the fey community -like all Sprites-, but enjoyed what I could of the court life. I never knew my parents because my mother died in childbirth and my father went missing immediately afterwards. I have yet to meet my father._

_Aimee: So, Oek how did you come to be in such a predicament with our inane antagonist? _

_Oek: Well, you already know, don't you Aimee? Your readers will just have to wait and see. _

_Aimee: How did I know you'd say something like that?_

_Oek: Well, you did write it._

_Aimee: This is true. Anyway, what do you plan on doing first when you go "home"?_

_Oek: I have no idea. I think I'd first thank the big guy upstairs and see whatever happens. _

_Aimee: Well thanks, but that's all our time today, unfortunately we don't have enough time for Fenmore._ (I have to go to sleep eventually!)

* * *

Please, let me know your hypothesis on this subject and click the boring-looking rectangular button below. If you don't... Who knows what might happen? Maybe no Jace in the next chappy... Or maybe not, either way I win. ;p

~Aimee Lafountaine


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